The Writer Poem by Jenny Kalahar

Bent over keyboard,
his hair illuminated by screenlight
softer than moonlight,
a haze to drown memories
more completely than coffee
even as he tugs at their ends
fighting exhaustion to put mood into word

The writer at his desk finds deeper night,
long fingers sliding and punching
worn black keys,
chuckling with power and poetry,
deviously constructing word combinations,
manipulating emotions,
his mouth endlessly sucking
the angular wood of a pencil
to remind himself
of the way writing used to taste